


Of Love and Treacle Tarts

by olimakiella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bakery, HP: EWE, M/M, Post - Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olimakiella/pseuds/olimakiella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter, Auror.  His life is set.  One chance meeting during lunch at a bakery, however, changes his mind.  Now, Harry Potter, Auror has got issues and though Draco is willing to wait, Harry has to wake up and figure out what he wants for his life before Draco gets sick of waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Love and Treacle Tarts

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This is H/D slash. All characters are of age. Please do not complain about it. I probably won’t listen anyway. Read them, heed them. There is some angst here and a swift piece whereby Hermione gives Harry a kick up the arse. Bit of humour but there isn't anything worrisome, except for the _smex_ and Harry's dirty thoughts about treacle tart.  
>  Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also don't own Thorton's, or _'The Only Way is Essex'._
> 
> Excerpt: _Harry watched Draco stop inches away from him and put the arm that wasn’t holding up his makeshift tunic around him. His head turned to rest his temple on Harry’s shoulder. Though Harry knew he was angry, he could still hear the sleepiness in his tone when he said, “Why do you keep sneaking out of here when I’m sleeping? Like I’m some one night stand you’re ashamed of?”_
> 
> In honour of chocolate gift!fest on LJ, this is for my beautiful, marvellous, wonderful f-list, who give me chocolate and love, support, help and brilliant BJs (beta-ing jobs). Who have my love, my loyalty and my heart. I dedicate this to all of you. I am scoffing all the chocolate as we speak. 
> 
> _Also, in honour of Thornton's._
> 
> _RIP. xxx_

 

 

Harry opened his eyes to darkness. He was warm, much warmer than he remembered feeling in a long time. He heaved a tired sigh and raised his hand to his face to rub the sleep from his eyes. Pausing, he looked down to his left arm and found a hard body laying on it. There was a head on his chest and an arm flung over his stomach. Harry remembered and groaned. He’d told himself he would stop doing this, but one glance from the man earlier in the day and Harry knew he’d end up one of two places: the pub, or Draco’s bed. Judging from the taste in his mouth and the ache in his head, he’d been to both. Harry turned his head to look around, blearily taking in the room he’d frequented on and off for the past two months. The bedroom was large. In the dark he couldn’t tell the colour, but he knew the pastel blue and cream of it made the room bright and airy in the sunlight.

Draco got the best light living on the top floor of his apartment building. His single-floor apartment was one of many in Kensington. He was in one of the new common hold flats, built across England in the Wizarding districts by a half-blood whose muggle father owned a construction company. They were quite a magnificent sight, a complete shift from the traditional houses that witches and wizards were used to. They were relatively new, built in the last four years or so. What attracted people to it the most was its location. It bordered the division between Muggle and Wizardom. The entire project was a statement that people bought into after the war and young people spent their money on it like the flats were going out of style.

He glanced down to the head of hair he could see on his chest and sighed, resolutely putting down the hand that rose to sift through the light strands. Draco had taken an interest in them immediately. Harry knew this because Draco had told him so on one of the many nights he’d spent there. The blond had been fresh from his court hearings and survived them with some of his money intact, though the manor was gone. His parents had moved and Draco had decided to stay. He hadn’t been ready to leave his home, even if people didn’t want him there anymore. He got lucky and found a job behind the counter of a bakery in Diagon Alley, the old woman who owned it taking a shine to him and showing him the ropes. His knowledge of numbers and business sense had moved him up from the shop floor to handling the books. The owner, Madeline Cumbry, had no children and, when she died three years later, Draco had been shocked to find out she’d left the bakery to him. She let him know in her will that she believed in him and knew he would do her proud.

And he had. The damn place was the biggest success Diagon Alley had seen since Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It was how Harry met him, on his lunch break. He’d gone in with Hermione one afternoon when he’d caught sight of the treacle tarts in the window. He hadn’t even seen the blond until he’d turned up behind him and told the girl behind the counter the items Harry and Hermione had ordered were for free.

_”It’s the least I can do for an old schoolmate.”_

_Harry’s dark eyebrows rose with his agitation. He hadn’t seen him in nearly four years and yet something about him just sent him back to adolescence. “Schoolmate? Is that what you call it?”_

_Draco narrowed his eyes playfully and gave him a small smile as he cocked an eyebrow. “Do you want the treacle tart or not, because our prices are subject to change based on customer attitude.” He crossed his arms._

_Hermione got between them. “Thank you, Malfoy. It’s very mature of you to put the past where it belongs. Isn’t it, Harry?”_

Harry hadn’t agreed but he’d nodded anyway, distracted by the stare the blond gave him. It set his teeth on edge and his mind filled with cotton. Hardly able to get any work done that day, Harry had been convinced Draco was the cause. Draco stirred something within him that day he’d forgotten was there. For the rest of that week, not able to explain it, he kept returning to the small bakery, his frustration growing each time he failed to see him, as he’d done the first time. The girl behind the counter ensured him she would tell her boss that he came to see him, even though Harry kept telling her not to. He told himself to give up – what the hell was he after anyway, another fight? It was stupid how he’d reverted back to his sixth-year self, following Draco around, but he still ended up waiting outside the bakery one night until it closed. He saw Draco leave, locking the door behind him before he began to walk down the Alley.

 

_Harry fell into step behind him, knowing that Draco knew he was there by the sudden stiffening of his shoulders. When the blond turned, Harry was shocked when something resembling relief passed across those pale features. Those grey eyes traversed his form and snapped back to his face._

_“Am I under investigation?” he asked, his voice smooth and amused. “Because, I swear, the_ Love Potion Lava Cakes _, don’t actually have a love potion in them.” His hands were up in surrender showing his smooth palms and Harry’s eyes followed them as they returned to his sides. He knew immediately the comment came from the fact he was still wearing his Auror uniform. There was a curious smile on the blond’s lips that Harry wanted to wipe away. He shouldn’t be smiling; there was nothing to smile about._

 _Draco cocked his head then. “You hungry?” he’d asked. Harry had frowned at him, confused at the sudden turn in the one-sided conversation. Draco walked towards him and took his hand, leading him back to the bakery. The shop was dark and the cases were empty, but the blond navigated through the chair-stacked tables easily. He led Harry towards the kitchen in the back before casting a_ Lumos _to switch on all the lamps that floated around the open space. Harry watched Draco enter a pantry, as he gathered his bearings, and return with a tray of desserts. He laid it on the counter beside the brunet before singling out the lone treacle tart between the éclair and the apple turnover, keeping the éclair for himself. “They’re your favourite, right?” When Harry didn’t answer, he gave a knowing smile and went to get a paper napkin. He used his hand to take out the tart and pushed the treat towards him. “You’ve been coming to see me,” he stated, his clear grey eyes staring at him. “Why?”_

 _Harry really didn’t know what to say. He had a feeling_ I don’t know _wasn’t going to cut it._

_Draco gave him another one of those strange knowing smiles. “You don’t talk much, do you?” he said. “What happened to the cocksure man I encountered last week?” He leaned forward on the counter._

_Harry watched the casual stance, not sure if it was his hip that jutted out or the word ‘cock’ coming from his mouth that got him harder than the rock cakes in the pantry. All he knew was that, suddenly, his attention passed from the sharp angles of Draco’s body to the mouth that was still talking to him._

_“I’m not going to make you pay for it,” Draco said gesturing to the treat in front of him. He reached forward with a tut, broke off a piece of the tart and held it up for him to take._

 

Harry’s eyes remained on his sleeping charge as he scoffed silently into the dark room. He transferred his gaze to the ceiling. To this day, he still didn’t know what made him take hold of Draco’s wrist and lean in to take a bite out of the tart, his mouth brushing Draco’s thumb as he stood. He did know that as soon as he saw those pupils blow to encompass the grey, all he wanted was to seal his mouth over other parts of Draco’s body. As his hold on Draco’s wrist tightened, he’d swallowed his mouthful, fast proceeding to do just that.

Harry felt his groin stir at the memory of the frenzied sex session that had followed on the metal counter in the bakery’s kitchen. He covered his face with his free hand and sighed. He thought he would be able to resist after that, after finding out what it was he really wanted from Draco. He’d thought once he’d got Draco out of his system he could forget about it. About him. He’d soon found out that if he could call Draco’s kisses as addictive as the pastries he sold, then fucking him equated to signing over his soul. He had to come back, it was the only way he could feel complete. Harry looked down at the head pillowed by his chest, feeling even, hot breaths exhaling over his skin. Weeks of denial had progressed from that night, closely followed by early mornings waking up in Draco’s bed.

Like now, for example.

Harry used his wand to cast a tempus charm. Two-fifteen. He sighed. He’d better go before Draco woke up. He moved slowly, carefully extracting himself from the human leech attached to him. So many days of waking up alone had obviously made Draco wary of him. In the pattern that was their screwed up ‘relationship’, Draco had taken to sleeping close to, if not on him during the night, probably to make it harder for Harry to escape. Too bad Harry was trained by Mad Eye. He could adopt stealth as his middle name. His clothes were all over the floor and he reeked of sex, but a shower was out of the question right now. He had the early morning shift and had to be at work in four hours. If he hurried, he could take a hot shower and get a little more sleep at home.

It was quiet at this time of morning; Kensington wasn't the type to house the kind of crowd that would be rowdy on the streets at this hour. The area Draco lived in may not have been posh but it was as close as one could get with a limited budget. Draco’s neighbours liked him too, especially with the heavenly scents wafting out of his flat on his days off. Harry was surprised Draco could actually bake the foods he sold. He’d assumed Draco had just taken over running the place. One taste of the tarts he’d pulled out of his oven after dinner one night had changed his mind forever. _Where are my shoes?_ he thought to himself as he reached the living room. He searched by his wand light, knowing if he used the light-switch, he was screwed. He found them in the kitchen, for some reason, and tugged them on.

His Auror robe was still on the couch in the living room. It looked like it was sitting waiting for him. His mind recalled how Draco had climbed on him, pushing the robe off his shoulders as he offered his congratulations. He’d just closed a case in the department and, strangely, Draco had been the first person he thought of telling. He’d seen him on his way back to the ministry after the arrest. Denying the urge, he’d gone with his team to celebrate at their local pub.

All it made him, though, was drunk, meaning less inhibition and high on adrenaline from catching the suspects. As soon as he’d left, he’d turned up at Draco’s door talking a mile a minute and accepted the plate Draco had given him. Still recalling the events, he’d sat down on the couch feeling content that he had all of Draco’s attention, even when, eventually, the blond had taken his plate away from him and finally shut him up by straddling him on the couch and kissing him breathless. Harry felt his jaw tighten as he picked up the robe and shook it out roughly to get rid of the way it moulded itself to the couch, like it didn’t want to leave. He threw it on, leaving it undone like his shirt currently was. He had to leave, now, before his bloody robe convinced him to stay. He’d reached the door, his hand undoing the latch and the locking spell, when the short entrance hall suddenly flooded with light.

“If you step one foot out of that door I will not be held accountable for my actions.”

Harry froze. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and turned slowly to see Draco wrapped up in the sheet they’d been covering with. His chest was bare and his hand held the sheet bundled together around his waist while his other hand fell from the light-switch. He was walking forward then, looking angry and hurt at the same time. Harry watched silently as Draco stopped inches away from him and put the arm that wasn’t holding up his makeshift tunic around him. His head turned to rest his temple on Harry’s shoulder, the heat from his exhale spreading across his exposed chest. Harry wondered what he was doing.

Though Harry knew Draco was angry, he could still hear the sleepiness in his tone when he said, “Why do you keep sneaking out of here when I’m sleeping? Like I’m some one night stand you’re ashamed of?” Harry sighed and let his arms hang at his sides.

 _So,_ Harry thought, _it was the guilt trip technique._

“No answer. Okay,” Draco added, pulling his head away. “Then I think I deserve to know why you think it’s okay to worm your way back into it after treating me that way.” Draco’s glare was fit to cut steel, but Harry could see the hurt there.

He’d been trying to avoid that. The anger he could take, but not the ache in his chest facing how upset Draco was, how upset he’d made him. “You’ve spent the last eight weeks drawing me in and pushing me away. I’ve put up with it because I could tell you were working through something and you weren’t ready to talk about it, but I can’t do this forever, Harry. You have to make up your mind. If you don’t want something serious, just tell me. I’m a big boy, I can take it.” He let him go to lean against the opposite wall.

And that was it, wasn’t it? It came down to Harry and his issues; the matter of how serious he wanted this thing between them to be, how he felt when Draco was with him. Draco had obviously put all that he was into this, judging by how he seemed to physically deflate when Harry wouldn’t answer. As if Harry had just killed him and Draco had stood there and wholeheartedly helped him plunge the blade. It was devastating to watch, but he was too much of a coward not to let it happen, to face how he felt.

Truth was, Harry was happy when he was with him. When he wasn’t with him, he often found himself counting the hours until he could be. But he’d left Draco alone so often that he could see the momentary glimpses of doubt on the man’s face whenever he turned up, could see they took progressively longer to disappear. Harry knew that he had to do something to get rid of it, either stay or finally go. His selfishness towards what Draco gave him and what Draco made him feel had him coming back. It was his cowardice of starting something so new and unconventional, something so forbidden, so _permanent_ that had him failing to stay. The fact that Draco went along with it until now proved that Harry just didn’t deserve him.

Draco was still waiting for an answer and Harry knew he had to give him one. Staying silent this time wasn’t an option. “You’re right.” He was staring at the floorboards unable to raise his head. _So much for Gryffindor courage_. “I’ve been stringing you along and you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry. I was the one to initiate this by going after you when I had no idea what I was doing.” He finally raised his head. “I’m not good at relationships, with any sex, and I certainly don’t know how to really be in one but this... Draco, you have to understand this terrifies me. _What it means_ terrifies me and... I leave because I don’t want you to see that, because you _deserve_ more than that.” He let out a humourless chuckle. “You look at me now as if you’re trying to figure out how long it’ll be before I take off and I... _hate_ that I make you feel that way.” His throat was closing in on him. He had to leave. Now. “I should go,” he managed and turned to the door.

“No, no, no. Don’t you dare disappear on me now, Potter.” Draco’s arm reached out to slam the door shut again. Harry had to move fast to avoid the door slicing off his fingers. “I’ve been waiting for an explanation and I’m not going to settle for _half_ of one.”

Harry stared at the door. He knew that if he really wanted to, he could get out of there. He felt trapped but his body didn’t seem to want to do anything about it. Draco’s hand was planted palm-flat against the wood of his front door. Spells kept them free of burns and scratches at work, he knew. Draco’s fingers were long, his nails perfect, the skin soft... tasty. He’d kissed and licked them clean many times before; during impromptu cooking lessons, during meals, during sex.... Swallowing hard, Harry shut his eyes and sighed.

“That first time with you...” his voice trailed off, but he fought to keep himself going. He wasn’t used to this. Talking sessions only ever came about when Hermione was sick to death of him ‘burying’ things. He followed her standard procedure and took a deep breath. One word at a time. “I’ve never felt anything like it before and I-” He licked his lips “-I panicked, because I’ve never thought of a man that way before. And in true Gryffindor style, I just ploughed on ahead without thinking.” The hand on his back did help, especially when it started running up and down. “After – I couldn’t get you out of my head, I kept thinking about you and _knew_ I had to see you again but I didn’t know how to approach you.” He turned his head to see Draco was leaning against the door beside him, his temple resting on the cool wood. “I tried to stay away from you, to make a clean break but you’re fucking irresistible and I did even last three days.” He was so disgusted at himself.

Draco was silent for a while. “You’re denying who you are, you know. It’s not healthy.” Harry turned away. He didn’t need to hear this. He could get this lecture from Hermione. “No, no, hey, _hey_. I get it, okay?” Draco said, forcing Harry's head back to him with a gentle pressure on his cheek. “I went through this too. My only advantage is I went through this in school. Pansy and Blaise pretty much forced me to accept it, though, since denying it made me distracted and my grades dropped a little.” He eyed him carefully. “Has that been happening at work?” he asked carefully.

Harry thought about the breaks in the case he’d just solved. Looking back, they were obvious now, even to a junior Auror, but he’d missed them. He could have solved the thing weeks ago if he hadn’t been so distracted. Draco seemed to be reading his mind. “It has, hasn’t it?” Harry really didn’t need to see that knowing look on Draco’s face. He turned away again, planting his head on the door rather hard. “Okay, look, you’re getting upset. Go home and think about what you want. When you’ve made up your mind, let me know.”

Harry watched Draco walk away. He hated that he was such a coward he couldn’t even ask Draco to stop because he had no idea what he’d say if he did. He turned, opened the door and left, shutting it softly behind him.

“Hermione, I don’t want a lecture. I just want to know what to do.” It was odd how Harry always considered himself one of the guys, yet he and Hermione always came to each other for advice with their problems, to get the weight of their shoulders, even in school. They always knew the truth about each other, long before anyone else did, even Ron. _Huh, maybe Hermione knew something I didn’t_. Then again, that premise wasn’t exactly a new one. He let it go.

His best friend actually growled at him. “No. I’m not going to tell you what to do so that further down the road you can blame your decision on me. You need to face what you’re running from and go from there, or else you’re just covering up the problem with a short term solution.”

She was right. He knew it. He _hated_ it, but he knew it. Damnit, why was life so hard? “I can’t tell people that... _that_.” He sighed. How could he face it if he couldn’t even _say_ it? “It will ruin me, Hermione. What would people think? What will _Ron_ think? I can’t.” He sounded hopeless now. “I just can’t, Hermione.” His shoulders slumped at her kitchen table. She lived alone in a house in Kent. It was nice, teeming with books and journals in random – but _organised_ – piles. So went the life of a Healer. An ideal career choice for Hermione, since healers never stopped learning.

Hermione put a hand to his head as it smacked on the wood of her table. “Ron isn’t your problem, Harry. He’s stuck by you through some dangerous situations. By now, I don’t think you being gay will make him dislike you. He’s had plenty other reasons.”

Harry’s head rose sharply. “Like what?”

Hermione smiled indulgently. “Oh, another emotion besides despondency. Lovely. I was beginning to think it was the only one you had.” She took a sip of her tea. It was her day off today and she’d planned to spend it reading the medical journals that she’d just received in the mail. She’d been on her way back upstairs with a large mug of tea when Harry had tumbled out of her floo. One look at him sent her back to the kitchen to make another cup. He’d drained it quickly, using it as a tool to avoid her questions.

Harry rolled his eyes and let his head fall again. “I’m doomed.”

Hermione put down her cup and leaned forward. “Harry, you were the one to go after Malfoy. You had a goal to get him, even if you didn’t know it at the time,” she added cutting him off before he could butt in, “and, by the grace of Merlin, you got him. Now you’re telling me that you’re willing to lose him just so you can save face with a world that’s turned its back on you more than once.” Her hand moved in a sweeping arc to encompass the ‘world’ she was describing. He watched it with a growing sadness, because it was true. “A world that doesn’t matter nearly as much as what you want for your life.” She gave him the look she usually saved for their excuses to play Quidditch rather than study. “Forget me and Ron and all your other friends for a moment. We don’t have to live your life, suffer through what you have suffered. We haven’t lost what you have, haven’t felt them like you have. We aren’t _you_. So why the _hell_ are you basing your decision on us? What can any of us possibly say that can make you _not_ love him?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t kn...” His head rose to face Hermione in shock, only to see that knowing grin on her face as she realised he got it. She took a triumphant sip of her tea.

“I don’t.” _I couldn’t_.

She grinned. “You do.” She propped her head up onto the heel of her hand. “The heart, Harry, it’s my business.” She pointed a thumb at herself saying, “Healer,” before she dropped her arm back on the table.

Harry let out a hopeless sigh. _Fuck._ “Shit. What do I do now?” How the hell was he supposed to cope with this? Very suddenly, Harry began to panic. “You’ve seen me in relationships, Hermione, I’m shit at them.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, you are.” He looked at her oddly, brought up short by her comment. “Oh, sorry, was I supposed to be lying?” She cleared her throat, starting again with a commiserating tone. “You may have been shit in those relationships, Harry, but you were barely an adult then, you couldn’t really know what love was. None of us could. Don’t sell yourself short before you’ve appraised your worth.” She paused to take in his reaction to her speech and rested a hand on his forearm. “But – Harry, if you’re stressing out so much over this, then take more time to make up your mind. He gave it to you after all, which was rather generous of him. I’d have chucked you out weeks ago.” She downed the rest of her tea and turned in her chair to drop it in the sink behind her.

“Thank you,” Harry deadpanned.

Hermione smiled brightly. “You’re welcome.” She sat back. “Don’t take too long though. Confused or not, it’s still a callous way to treat him.”

Harry nodded. He could do this. And when he made up his mind, he would _make_ himself go to Draco and give him his decision face to face. It was the least the blond deserved for putting up with him.

For the third night in a row, Harry jumped awake, groaning in the aftermath of an intense orgasm. He sat up, breathing heavily with a hand on his chest. His heart was beating erratically. Trying to focus, he purposefully began to breathe slowly, hoping his heart would slow before it exploded in his chest. He turned to his side, seeing nothing but sheets and cold pillows. He shut them as he continued his breathing exercise. His dreams were getting more and more erotic. He could still _taste_ Draco on his tongue when he’d kissed him, licked him, _pleasured_ him. But that was impossible. He hadn’t even seen Draco in three days. He’d intentionally been avoiding Diagon Alley and all it entailed, trying his hardest to forget the blond.

Trying his hardest not to miss him.

Harry threw himself back, the sweat on his chest cooling in the air as his heartbeat began to calm. He was exhausted. Staying away from Draco was taking its toll on him. It was beginning to show in his work after only three days, just like it had when he’d denied himself before. He had to do something about it.

But what?

Oddly enough, the answer came from Lavender Brown.

Seamus Finnigan sighed as he sat heavily on one of the chairs in the Auror Department’s Break Room. He had, in his hands, what looked like a hommage to the colour pink in the form of a book.

“I think this one just about takes the treacle tart.”

Harry fought down a diligent blush from his face. _Mmm,_ Harry’s treacherous mind chorused anyway, _treacle tart._ He ignored the thought and all the dirty things it slammed to the forefront of his mind. “What do you mean?” he said instead.

Seamus let out a humour-filled chuckle. “You remember Collin Creevey?” he asked. “Creepy little guy, used to follow you around and take pictures?”

Harry frowned and looked down at the book. He had a feeling this may just ‘take the treacle tart’ after all. “I’m afraid to say yes, but I will.” He sat down at the table with his cup of tea. He burned his tongue with the hot tea on purpose. _Take that, mind._

The Irishman propped his head on the heel of his hand. “Well, he’s a professional photographer now.”

Harry scoffed. “Big shock there.”

Seamus nodded, smiling. “He’s also grown into his face, apparently.” He took great amusement from Harry’s attempt to inhale his tea in through his nose.

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to make of that comment. Though, he did remember a rather small boy with an over-large camera, as well as an over-large nose, teeth, eyes, ears... _Oh, that’s what he means_. His comprehension must have shown, because Seamus grinned. He grabbed a tissue from the counter behind him to wipe off his face and the table.

“According to Lavender Brown, he’s ‘drop dead gorge’,” he said with air quotes, “with a Gringott’s bank account to sweeten the deal.”

Harry began to laugh. The day really couldn’t get any stranger. “What’s with the book then?” he asked gesturing to it in Seamus’ hand. He aimed the tissue at the bin in the corner. _Score_.

Seamus chuckled some more. “It’s her way of expressing her love.” He opened it and, as the book unfolded, it glowed pink and kept unfolding itself until its size spanned the length and breadth of the table. Harry moved back, taking his tea with him, surprised by the sudden movement. On the surface of the wood now sat a large-scale poster of Collin Creevey’s face. It looked a bit like a headshot. Harry cocked his head to the side. The man that smiled and winked saucily at him wasn’t half bad.

_Oh, Christ, now I know I’m gay._

As he looked closer, he could see the picture was made up of smaller photographs of Creevey, each of them obviously taken when he was not aware of the photographer. “Is it working?” he asked Seamus looking up at the man. “Her expressing her love?”

Seamus gave him a deadpan look. “He’s filing charges against her for stalking.” He produced another photograph. The original headshot Lavender had made a transcription of with her inventive medium. “We have her in a holding cell downstairs. Ron seemed especially happy to put her in there.”

Harry nodded absently. “Well, she gets an A for effort. At least she took the time to do it with something he loved...” His eyes took on a faraway look, accompanied by his face. “Of course,” he said to himself. Emptying his cup of tea in the sink, he said quickly, “I’m taking my break outside. I’ll be back.” He didn’t notice Seamus’ nod and went upstairs to catch a floo ride home.

The next day, Harry stared at Draco's apartment door. The smooth, dark wood of it had seen a lot of him before, but he was sure this was the first time he’d ever taken the time to talk to it. It was a good listener, if a silent one. It didn’t even comment on his hello, or tell him if his apology sounded as ridiculous as he thought it did. He stood there for a while discussing what he should say before a thought occurred to him. _Fuck, what if he’s at work?_

Apparently, the door could read minds as it opened in answer. Draco, who seemed to be rushing, was fully dressed and on his way out. He paused, however, when he saw Harry standing on his threshold. That familiar distrusting and unsure expression, the one that took increasing amounts of time to diminish, was back and Harry felt like a prick all over again. Those grey eyes once again traversed his frame, and Harry was grateful he’d come from home instead of work this time, when the look began to recede a little faster than usual. He didn’t know coming here in his work clothes made Draco uneasy. He’d have to make a note of that.

“What is that?”

He hadn’t heard his voice for five days and wasn’t aware of how much he’d missed it until he heard it again. He looked down to the container in his hands. He was about to make a fool of himself, he was certain. “W- it’s... it’s an éclair.” At Draco’s continued silence, he fumbled for words to fill it. “Th-that first night, when you gave me the treacle tart, you kept the éclair... f-for yourself – _obviously_..." he trailed off in mortification. "Is... is it not your favourite, then?” _Oh, shit_ “Did I get it wrong? Fuck, I’m sorry.” He began to backtrack. The blond was obviously busy. He was keeping him back. “I’m really bad with this kind of thing,” he said backing away.

A hand on his forearm stopped him, Draco’s keys jangled a little at the sudden movement. “You made that for me?”

Words kept getting lodged in his throat. What was wrong with his voice? He’d _just_ practiced this with Draco’s door. “I – well, I tried to,” he said trying to downplay the seven hours of work in his hands. How stupid was this idea, trying to make something Draco does nearly every day? _He’s probably sick of éclairs. He has them on fucking tap at work._. “Er, there were others but they weren’t so good. Um, this one looked the best so I... this is stupid, I’m sorry." He needed to get out of there before his magic actually made a hole in the ground to swallow him. He stopped his retreat when the arm refused to let him go.

“So, _you_ made it for me. Just you?”

 _What the hell does that have to do with anything?_ “Um. I followed a recipe in a pastry book but-” He didn’t have the chance to finish, since he was cut off by Draco’s mouth on his. The rest of his sentence was forgotten.

“Tell me-” Draco swallowed hard around the words when he finally let Harry go “-tell me you’re here for a good reason, _please_.”

Harry nodded as much as he could – what with how close Draco held him. “Very good. Draco, I’m so sorry, I-”

Draco didn’t even seem to have heard him. “Oh, thank Merlin,” he said and dragged him inside. He pulled him towards his bedroom, taking the container and placing it on the kitchen counter as he passed the kitchen. “I’ll open it later,” he said to Harry.

Harry nodded and swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’ve missed you.”

Draco smiled at him. “I missed you too.” He tugged on his hand, walking backward as he pulled Harry along. “Talk later. Bedroom, now.”

Harry followed Draco into the familiar shades of his bedroom, humming in pleasure as Draco’s hands moulded to his hips. He was pulled into another kiss, Draco’s tongue sliding over his lips and gently parting them. He was undoing Harry's shirt and Harry arched his back as a pink tongue lapped at his nipple. The pressure in his groin increased and he could feel his boxers getting wetter the longer he stood there. With his shirt gone, Draco’s mouth returned to his, his hands sliding further down to his jeans. Harry moaned slightly, tasting the mint of Draco’s toothpaste on his tongue, and placed his hand on Draco's neck to pull him in deeper. He’d missed him, so much. So _fucking_ much. Harry broke the kiss with a gasp as he felt Draco's hardness pressing into his own through his boxers. His hands tore at the first few buttons before Draco’s shirt went up and off. His hand then slithered down to the apex of Draco’s dress pants.

“More," Draco gasped, his eyes shut.

They had to get to the bed, Harry decided. He kissed Draco again, hard, using the momentum to guide them blindly as he undid Draco’s trousers. The soft fabric fell to the ground with their underwear just before he and Draco fell onto the bed. Slipping his tongue into the blond's mouth once more, he caressed it, and used his wand to conjure some lube. He slipped his fingers inside Draco, sliding them in and out in rhythm to stretch him completely. Draco was panting in his ear once he forced their mouths apart for air. His fingers twisted in the sheets by his head. Harry slid his fingers out one last time, nudging at Draco’s opening with the head of his already-leaking cock. Draco bit his lower lip and held his breath as Harry penetrated him, past the ring of tight muscles. Harry leaned a little further until his cock had completely settled inside Draco's arse. He took a deep, calming breath, trying to stave off the imminent orgasm brewing deep in the pit of his stomach.

He looked into Draco’s eyes, trying to judge when he could move by the expression there. Once he made contact, though, he felt the impulse to kiss him. He let his weight drop slowly as he stretched out, entwining his hands in that silky blond hair. He felt joy in his heart when Draco responded to him immediately. The kiss was broken soon, though, as Draco whispered for him to move and the need to come suddenly returned with full force. He slid halfway out then slammed back in, his hips coming in contact with the body beneath his. Draco gave a low moan as Harry pulled out and thrust back in again, his cock sliding back into the warmth of Draco's body. The tight heat squeezed him like a vice in a beautiful rhythm and he lost a bit of his mind as he began to thrust erratically to get more of the intense feeling.

Draco cried out when Harry's cock jabbed his prostate hard, and he bucked, arching his back and impaling himself wonderfully. It wouldn't be much longer, he knew. His orgasm was dawning, so Harry gripped hold of Draco’s trapped erection between them, pumping it in time with his thrusts. He felt the muscles clench over his cock and couldn't hold back. He came crying loudly, shooting deep inside the blond's body. Draco groaned in kind and Harry felt warm liquid gush all over his hand. He thrust in a last few times until he was absolutely spent, gasping for breath. He kissed and licked at Draco's neck and shoulder affectionately as they both took time to catch their breath.

There was a hand in his hair, he noticed after a while. It combed and gently tugged, then tamed and simply twisted a loose lock of his hair idly. Harry sighed, tired and content. Something had clicked into place, something that hadn’t been there before and he knew what it was. He was in love now. This is how it was supposed to feel. This is what he’d remember when he thought about how he wanted to live. He wanted to be happy, like this, no matter what. If he got to stay with Draco, he didn’t care.

 _Bring it on, world_ , he thought to himself as he drifted to sleep.

Harry’s eyes opened to darkness. He was warm, much warmer than he remembered feeling in a long time. He heaved a tired sigh and raised his hand to his face to rub at his eyes. Pausing, he looked down to his left. There wasn’t anything there. His brow furrowed in confusion and he looked around again. _Yes, definitely Draco’s bedroom_. Hearing a faint voice, his head tilted to the side, his eyes squinting in concentration as he made out Draco’s voice but no one else’s. He got up and felt around the ground for his jeans. Pulling them on, he silently made his way to the bedroom door, pulling it ajar to eavesdrop as he slid his wand out of his pocket with practiced ease. He didn’t open it far; the bedroom could be seen from the kitchen, with just the living room separating the two. If there was any trouble, he wanted to have the advantage. His grip on his wand tightened.

“I don’t care Blaise. Just tell him I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.” A pause. Harry straightened, Draco was obviously on the phone. Listening for trouble was one thing. He shouldn’t be listening to private conversations. “What do you mean he wants to know why I turned him down? It was a blind date, not a marriage proposal.”

That got his attention. His stomach knotted. _He was on his way out. He was going on a date_. Harry bit into his bottom lip. He’d known Draco wouldn’t wait forever but... he felt a rush of air displace in his stomach as his heart dropped into it. _I almost lost him_.

“I’ve had a better offer.” His ears perked again. “Never you mind, you nosey bastard. I’ll tell you what he has, besides a cock that just keeps on giving-” Harry chuckled quietly and shook his head. He’d never quite get the obsession Draco had with his penis. He’d had it all his life and it didn’t seem all that spectacular. Then again, he was new to the gay scene. Penises were supposed to be a pretty big deal to him now, right? He opened the bedroom door and walked out into the living room. The kitchen was only separated from the living room by a counter so he knew Draco would be able to see him now. He also knew Draco would have positioned himself like a watchman so he’d know as soon as Harry was awake.

Harry smirked to himself. Draco really didn’t know what being trained by Moody meant.

Draco was sitting at the island in the middle of his kitchen, the container Harry had brought over earlier in front of him. A sharp tinge of nerves hit him despite his former cockiness. The conversation stopped. “I have to go now.” There was a pause and Draco suddenly smiled. “Yes, he is.” He looked appalled. “No I will not, you dirty cretin!” Harry frowned and cocked his head in interest. Draco seemed to be hearing something to make him undecided. “Eight and a half,” he said and hung up the phone immediately, as if he couldn’t believe he’d just done that.

Harry’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You measured me?”

Draco seemed undecided on how to approach that question. His fingers went back down into the cream of the half eaten éclair. He licked it off and did it again.

Harry walked through the living room and into the kitchen, circling the island. When he was behind the blond, he rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder. “Why is Zabini so interested in the size of my cock?” It was a little confusing. Was this something gay men did? Was it like how women talked about their escapades? He’d seen interactions like this on a show Hermione liked to watch about a group of people living in Essex. Load of trash, he thought, but for some reason, even unknown to Hermione, she was hooked. He’d even learned a new term called ‘vagazzle’. Hermione cracked up whenever he said it, like he was trying out a new language. As a matter of fact, everything spoken in the program was like a new language. Maybe that’s why she liked it, Hermione loved to learn new things.

He eyed the éclair being gutted in front of him. “Do I take that to mean that the cream is good, but the pastry is rubbish?”

He could see the outline of a blush on Draco’s cheeks. “I was just testing it. It tastes good,” he said bringing his finger up to his mouth again.

Harry wilfully stopped himself from watching the digit disappear into Draco’s mouth. “Stop lying.”

Draco laughed. “I’m not lying, I promise.” He tore off a piece and held it up. Reminiscent of their first time in the bakery, Harry took a hold of Draco’s wrist and took the pastry into his mouth, licking the cream off Draco’s thumb as he did. Watching Draco as he was, he could see his pupils blow, but before he could act on it, Draco said, “What made you come back?”

Harry tempered his urges. “I missed you.” He shrugged. “And I love you.” He took up another finger full of cream. That did actually taste good. The dark chocolate was alright too. He’d got it on sale at the Thorton’s that was closing down in his area, though he made the conscious decision not to tell the blond he was eating discounted chocolate. “It’s okay if you don’t love me back just yet,” he said as he took in Draco’s stunned face. “I can wait. It’s the least I can do for all the waiting you’ve done for me. I really have no idea how to approach this relationship, though, so you’ll have to be quite patient if I do something wrong.”

Draco was still staring at him. “After what you just said, I don’t think there’s a chance of that.” He pulled Harry towards him, kissing him soundly and tasting the sweet and bitter echo of chocolate and cream. “I love you too,” he said to him quietly and fell silent in favour of expressing the rest in taste and touch.

Fin.


End file.
